SAT Reading Practice Test

Below is our free SAT Reading practice test for the new 2016 SAT. This is a reading comprehension test with questions that focus on command of evidence, words in context, and analysis. The passages will cover a wide variety of content including literature, economics, and science. Start you SAT Reading practice right now with our free practice questions.

Directions: The SAT Reading test consists of five passages, and each passage is followed by a series of questions. After reading each passage, answer the questions based on what is stated or implied in the passage.

SAT Reading Practice Test

Time limit: 0

Quiz-summary

0 of 52 questions completed

Questions:

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

Information

You have already completed the quiz before. Hence you can not start it again.

Quiz is loading...

You must sign in or sign up to start the quiz.

You have to pass the previous Module's quiz in order to start this quiz:

Results

Quiz complete. Results are being recorded.

Results

0 of 52 questions answered correctly

Your time:

Time has elapsed

You have reached 0 of 0 point(s), (0)

Earned Point(s): 0 of 0, (0)0 Essay(s) Pending (Possible Point(s): 0)

Categories

Not categorized0%

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

Answered

Review

Question 1 of 52

1. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

The main purpose of the first paragraph is

to describe a failure to appreciate Milton’s prose.

to explain how readers can understand what an author intends.

to criticize Pattison for missing the importance Milton’s politics had on his poetry.

to explain the lasting impact and value of Milton prose.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 2 of 52

2. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

Why does the author use quotation marks around the word “studied” in sentence 2?

To show that most English teachers are not qualified for their positions.

To explain why Milton is little understood by the general public.

To indicate students rarely complete their homework on poets such as Milton.

To emphasize the incompleteness with which Milton is understood and examined.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 3 of 52

3. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

As used in the first sentence of paragraph 2, “polemic” most nearly means

having an intricate or exquisite quality.

contrary and difficult by nature.

socially engaged in activism.

incongruously political.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 4 of 52

4. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

Which sentence best encapsulates the author’s criticism of Mark Pattison’s work?

Paragraph 2, Sentence 1 (“Mark…liberty.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentences 2-3 (“This…politician.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 4 (“Yet…poems.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 5 (“Milton’s…Puritan.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 5 of 52

5. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

The author included the sentence, “But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after” (2nd sentence of paragraph 3) in order to

refute the sentence immediately before it.

change to a new topic before ending the essay.

praise the far-reaching impact of Pattison’s work.

introduce a criticism that has not yet been discussed.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 6 of 52

6. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

The primary purpose of this passage is to

compare Milton’s poetry to his prose works, and emphasize the latent value of the latter.

decry the unwarranted criticism Milton’s prose works have received.

recommend a reevaluation of Milton’s prose works by Pattison and similar scholars.

criticize Pattison’s interpretation of Milton’s motives and emphasize the true value of his prose work.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 7 of 52

7. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

Which of the following best summarizes the author’s interpretation of Pattison’s work on Milton?

It does not appreciate Milton’s writing.

It is regrettable and ignominious.

It is impressive but inadequate.

It fails to consider both Milton’s poetical and prose contributions.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 8 of 52

8. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

The author of the passage implies all of the following about Milton EXCEPT

Milton’s polemical writing favored the ideals of the Puritan movement.

Milton’s interest in polemic prose did not influence his poetry.

Milton was actively engaged in the politics of his day.

Milton likely opposed monarchism and totalitarian rule.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 9 of 52

9. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “The author of the passage implies all of the following about Milton EXCEPT: Milton’s interest in polemic prose did not influence his poetry.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 4 (“Yet…poems.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentences 1-2 (“Milton…after.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentences 3-4 (“The restoration…it.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentences 5-6 (“A man…poetry.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 10 of 52

10. Question

Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “An Introduction to the Prose and Poetical Works of John Milton” by Hiram Corson. Originally published in 2014.

John Milton’s prose works are perhaps not read, at the present day, to the extent demanded by their great and varied merits. Some of his poetical works are extensively “studied” in the schools, and a somewhat reasonable stab at the study of some of his prose works is made in departments of rhetoric, but his prose works cannot be said to be read in the best sense of the word, — that is, with all faculties focused upon the subject-matter as one of major importance, with an openness of heart, and with an accompanying interest in the general loftiness of Milton’s diction. In short, everyone should train himself or herself to read any great author with the fullest loyalty to the author — by which is not meant that all the author’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs are to be accepted, but that what they really are be adequately apprehended. In other words, loyalty to an author means that every reader fully attempt to understand and receive the work’s intended meaning and spirit.

Mark Pattison, in his Life of Milton, while fully recognizing the grand features of the prose works as monuments of the English language, undervalues, or rather does not value at all, Milton’s services to the cause of political and religious liberty as a polemic prose writer, and considers it a thing to be much regretted that he engaged at all in the great contest for political, religious, and other forms of liberty. This seems to be the one unacceptable feature of his very able life of the poet. Looking upon the life of Milton the politician merely as a sad and ignominious interlude in the life of Milton the poet, Pattison cannot be expected to entertain the idea that the poem is in any sense the work of the politician. Yet we cannot help thinking that the tension and elevation which Milton’s nature had undergone in the mighty struggle, together with the heroic dedication of his faculties to the most serious objects, must have had not a little to do both with the final choice of his subject and with the tone of his poems. Milton’s great Puritan poetry could hardly have been written by anyone but a militant Puritan.

Milton was writing prose when, some think, he should have been writing poetry, and, as Pattison claims, these works of Milton had no influence whatsoever on current events. But they certainly had an influence, and a very great influence, on current events not many years after. The restoration of Charles II did not mean that the work of Puritanism was undone, and that Milton’s pamphlets were to be of no effect. It was in a large measure due to that work and to those pamphlets that in a few years — only fourteen after Milton’s death — the constitutional basis of the monarchy underwent a radical change for the better, — a change which would have been a great pleasure to Milton, if he could have lived to see it. A man constituted as Milton was could not have kept himself apart from the great conflicts of his time. Although the direct subjects of his polemic prose works may not hold a huge interest for the general reader in the present-day, they are all, independently of their subjects, charged with inherent truth and as profoundly expressive as his poetry. All of Milton’s work, both poetry and prose, are full of bright gems of enduring truth.

As used in paragraph 3, the word “constituted” most nearly means

with a repetitive behavioral pattern.

initiated in a particular manner.

with a certain composition.

in a position of leadership.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 11 of 52

11. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

With which of the following statements would the author of the passage most likely agree?

Normal prices are predictably variable.

Population density is a direct result of easy transportation of goods.

Markets are steadily widening through the improvement of means of communication and transportation.

The markets of the Middle Ages were just as competitive as today’s world markets.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 12 of 52

12. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

According to the passage, all of the following are true about a market except?

A market is more competitive when a variety of consumers and producers are present.

The number of its buyers and sellers is directly proportional to the ability to transport goods.

It primarily represents a physical location for conducting trade.

No matter how wide the world market grows, consumers will still purchase some goods locally.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 13 of 52

13. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “According to the passage, all of the following are true about a market except? It primarily represents a physical location for conducting trade.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 4 (“A market…traders.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 1 (“Modern…widely.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 2 (“As…world.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 3 (“While…market.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 14 of 52

14. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

As used in paragraph 3, “locality” most nearly means

specific jurisdiction.

general vicinity.

similar state.

adjacent region.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 15 of 52

15. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Which of the following is the function of the fourth paragraph?

Reveal the relationship between two common business terms.

Describe the conditions of the earliest markets.

Define an aspect of the market economy that prevailed in the past.

Explore the connotation of a certain economic phrase.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 16 of 52

16. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Which of the following scenarios best illustrates the author’s description of locally produced products in the modern world market?

Farmers sell their wheat to large buyers in distant cities, while they sell their fruit and eggs in the village near their farm.

Military contracts once awarded to private armies are now available to governments worldwide.

Independent music artists who once sold their cassette tapes and CD demos after shows now sell their music to a wider audience via iTunes.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 17 of 52

17. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “Which of the following scenarios best illustrates the author’s description of locally produced products in the modern world market? Farmers sell their wheat to large buyers in distant cities, while they sell their fruit and eggs in the village near their farm.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentences 3-4 (“The remarkable…traders.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 1 (“Modern…widely.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentences 2-4 (“As a result…market.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 5 (“If a given…equal.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 18 of 52

18. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Based on the two graphics provided, what inference can be drawn between population growth and world trade?

Trade had a significant effect on population growth.

Trade and population growth are directly proportional.

Population growth had a significant effect on trade expansion.

Trade and population growth are inversely proportional.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 19 of 52

19. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

Which of the following is true about the first graph?

It shows that between 1000 and 1500, China’s economic growth remained relatively stagnant.

It shows that the GDP per capita for the U.S. in 1800 was more than twice that of China in 1800.

It shows the GDP per capita for Eastern Europe in 1700 was more than three times that of India in the same year.

It shows that Western European economic growth expanded more quickly than that of China and Japan during 1600-1800.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 20 of 52

20. Question

Questions 11-20 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from, “The Principles of Economics, with Applications to Practical Problems” by Frank Albert Fetter.

The earliest markets were established on the borders between tribes, villages, or nations as a common ground where strangers met to trade. At such markets were brought together from sparsely settled districts a comparatively large number of merchants and customers. Buyers had the opportunity of wide selection both in goods and quality, and the sellers found a large number of customers gathered at one point. Throughout the Middle Ages, purchases were made by the more prosperous farmers in great quantities once a year at the fairs or markets. As both the buyers and sellers came from widely separated places, there existed in most respects, the conditions of a competitive market.

The number of buyers and sellers that can constitute a single market is limited both directly and indirectly by the means of transportation. A dense population cannot usually be maintained without easy means of transportation to bring in a large supply of goods and to carry back manufactured goods great distances. The remarkable growth in the means of commerce since the invention of the wheel, and much later, the railroad, made it possible for goods to be gathered from extremely distant points. A market implies a common understanding among traders.

Modern means of communication, such as newspapers, television, the Internet, e-mail, are diffusing information widely. As a result of these changes, there has been a widening of the traditional village-market to the markets of the province, of the nation, and finally of the world. While a part of every one’s purchases continues to be made within a local neighborhood, a greater and greater portion of total business is done by traders who are widely separated and who are members of the world market. Various articles produced in the same locality may seek different markets. If a given product of any community is sold in different markets, the net prices secured must be very nearly equal.

“Normal price” is the price which, apart from exceptional conditions, is expected to prevail, and to which actual prices seem constantly striving to adjust themselves. As actual prices are nearly always either more or less than so-called normal price, and only momentarily ever correspond with it, the term “normal” would appear to be something of a misnomer. Moreover, as the circumstances of production change, this normal price itself is altered so that what is normal one day may be quite abnormal the next. The thought of “normal price” is an abstract one, but despite the inadequacy of the word it is not without some practical validity in today’s world market.

At the point in time where the “?” symbol appears on the second graphic, what portion of the world had the lowest GDP per capita?

United States

Japan

Eastern Europe

India

Correct

Incorrect

Question 21 of 52

21. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

As used in paragraph 1, the word “refreshed” most nearly means

recalled.

reiterated.

recalibrated.

reinvigorated.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 22 of 52

22. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

Over the course of the passage, the main focus of the narrative shifts from the

curiosity a character has about a person he has just run into to a growing fondness the character has for that person’s beauty.

annoyance a character feels about the volatile nature of another person to the character’s recognition of the common ground between the two.

nervousness a character feels regarding another person to the character’s concern that their romantic feelings are not reciprocated.

value a character attaches to the wonders of the natural world to a rejection of that sort of beauty in favor of human artistry.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 23 of 52

23. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

In the context of the passage, the author’s use of the sentence, “There was nothing new about Lily Bart,” (paragraph 2) is primarily meant to convey the idea that

Lily Bart’s income doesn’t allow her to keep up with the latest fashions.

Lily Bart is twenty-nine years old, and older than most of Selden’s peers.

Selden and Lily have been acquaintances for some time.

Lily’s manner and behavior has a timeless quality in Selden’s eyes.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 24 of 52

24. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

The description in the second paragraph indicates that what Selden values most about Lily is her

physical attractiveness.

ability to incite curiosity.

kind and generous nature.

way of standing out in a crowd.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 25 of 52

25. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “The description in the second paragraph indicates that what Selden values most about Lily is her: ability to incite curiosity.”)

First 3 sentences (“Selden…season?”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 2 (“If she had…perplexed him.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentences 3-4 (”She stood…arrested him.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 5 (“There was…intentions.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 26 of 52

26. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

The author includes the following detail: “it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test” (paragraph 3) in order to

indicate that Lily has some experience in avoiding unwanted conversations.

imply that Lily has had numerous suitors in the past.

reveal that Lily has snubbed Selden on previous occasions.

show that Lily has a strong and stubborn sense of pride.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 27 of 52

27. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

What is implied by the author’s inclusion of the detail, “she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing” (paragraph 6)?

Though attractive, Lily Bart was not as energetic and youthful as she had once been.

Lily’s skin and hair were as smooth as Selden had remembered them to be years earlier.

Selden had not seen Lily for eleven years.

Lily had been participating in the social activities of high society for quite some time.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 28 of 52

28. Question

Questions 21-30 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

The author’s statement that, “his course lay so far out of her orbit,” (paragraph 10) has mainly which effect?

It explains why Selden has not run into Lily in several years.

It describes how inferior Selden feels in relation to Lily.

It shows that they do not live in the same neighborhood in London.

It reveals that they move in different social circles.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 29 of 52

29. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

Based on the details from the passage, who are the Trenors?

Members of Lily’s social class.

Personal friends of Selden.

London acquaintances of both Lily and Selden.

Members of Lily’s extended family.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 30 of 52

30. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

Why does Selden say, “The resources of New York are rather meagre…but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something” (paragraph 15)?

Selden is frustrated with the speed of the city’s public transportation.

Selden is making a joke for Lily’s benefit.

Selden is confident is his ability to impress Lily.

There is nowhere close by where they can have tea.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 31 of 52

31. Question

Questions 21-31 are based on the following passage.

This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth.”

Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.

It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one and another of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting for someone, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result of far-reaching intentions.

An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting her skill to the test.

“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”

She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.

Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?

“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”

He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.

“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do take me somewhere for a breath of air.”

He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal implied.

“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?”

She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace.

“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?”

He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from design.”

“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was.

A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshingly over the moist street.

“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged from the station.

They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape?

The final sentence of the passage foreshadows

the theory that Selden may see Lily’s true nature better than most of her peers.

the marriage proposal that Selden will eventually make towards Lily.

the idea that despite Lily’s alluring qualities, they may not lead her to a happy life.

the notion that Lily’s interior life may not be as captivating as her exterior features.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 32 of 52

32. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

Which of the following is a statement with which the author would most likely agree?

Fragrance is not an inherent quality, but a cerebral sensation.

Grass is not actually green.

Reflection is unnecessary in a sensory-deprived environment.

Interstellar ether is required for the optic nerve to perceive color.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 33 of 52

33. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

The author is primarily concerned with

revealing the complexities of human perception.

discussing the details of a new theory.

criticizing a long-established scientific fact.

challenging a common assumption.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 34 of 52

34. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

What function does the discussion of tints and hues in Paragraph 2 serve?

Narrowing the scope of a question previously posed.

Comparing and contrasting scientific wavelengths.

Changing a preconceived idea about Nature.

Defining a common term using specific terminology.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 35 of 52

35. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

According to the passage, which qualities can be attributed to waves of light?

Rare and expansive.

Malleable and pervasive.

Variable and commingled.

Tactile and finite.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 36 of 52

36. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

The passage implies that which of the following is true of the ancient philosophies?

In general, they had a limited perception of Nature.

Their proponents may have failed to consider a fundamental paradox.

They neglected to take into account the true origin of sense memory.

They focused more on the Nature of Man than on the earth sciences.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 37 of 52

37. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “The passage implies that which of the following is true of the ancient philosophies? Their proponents may have failed to consider a fundamental paradox.”)

Paragraph 1, Sentences 4-5 (“First, let us…suns.”)

Paragraph 1, Sentence 7 (“Such is the…cause.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentences 2-3 (“The multiplicity…colors.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentences 3-4 (“One of the…simple truth.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 38 of 52

38. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

As used in paragraph 1, the word “wondrous” most nearly means

benevolent.

deleterious.

prodigious.

doubtful.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 39 of 52

39. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

The graphic accompanying the passage indicates that as wavelengths decrease

energy decreases.

energy increases.

visible light decreases.

visible light increases.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 40 of 52

40. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

Based on the graphic, which choice gives a wavelength for the color green?

280 nm

400 nm

530 nm

610 nm

Correct

Incorrect

Question 41 of 52

41. Question

Questions 32-41 are based on the following passage.

The following passage is adapted from an editorial in “The Atlantic Monthly.”

It would seem to be folly for anyone to maintain that grass is not green, that sugar is not sweet, that the rose has no odor and the trumpet no tone. A man would seem to be out of his senses deliberately to doubt what the world thinks to be simple truths. Is grass green? First, let us consider what “green” really is,—what “color” is. Light is understood to be an undulation of the interstellar ether, that inconceivably rare, elastic expanse of matter which occupies all space,—an undulation communicated by the incandescent envelope of suns. It moves with such wondrous rapidity as to traverse hundreds of thousands of miles in a second. Such is the generally received explanation of the phenomenon of light; but there is much yet to be explained for which this simple undulation of matter seems to be an insufficient cause. These waves of motion have different lengths and rates of velocity; but the union of them all gives to the human eye the impression of white light. The chart below shows how energy and wavelengths relate to one another.

Color, then, is the sensation of the brain, responsive to the touch of the motion of ether; and the brain is only thus affected when these waves are thrown back from some object to the eye. The multiplicity of tints and hues are reflections from the objects which appear to possess them as structural characters. Some of the waves pass into the objects and through them, others are arrested by them and absorbed, others rebound from them like a ball from a wall; and these last, breaking upon the optic nerve, give to it certain sensations which we designate as colors. A wave of a certain velocity and length gives us a certain sensation which we call blue; another awakens the sensation we call yellow. The two series of waves, mingling, produce a new sensation which we call green.

The necessity of reflection for the production of these sensations is evident. The mingled waves have no color in their incident flow; but, striking some object, these waves become separated, some being absorbed, and the reflected ones produce the peculiar sensation we call color. One of the ancient philosophies maintained that all Nature is but the phantasm of our senses. Had it, after first granting that the senses themselves were evidences of matter and motion, maintained that Nature was only evident to us through them, it would have been simple truth.

According to the graphic, which type of wave has the most energy?

Gamma rays

Ultraviolet light

Visible light

TV waves

Correct

Incorrect

Question 42 of 52

42. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

According to Passage 1, what is true about Coluberquatuorlineatus and Colubersauromates?

They have identical markings.

The Coluberquatuorlineatus is unrelated to the Colubersauromates.

The adult snakes do not resemble their young.

Colubersauromates evolved before Coluberquatuorlineatus.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 43 of 52

43. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

(Previous question, “According to Passage 1, what is true about Coluberquatuorlineatus and Colubersauromates? Colubersauromates evolved before Coluberquatuorlineatus.”)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 1 (“It is … confirmation)

Paragraph 2, Sentence 3 (“Yet, if we…primitive.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 1 (“It is…explained.”)

Paragraph 3, Sentence 2 (“Let us consider…primitive.”)

Correct

Incorrect

Question 44 of 52

44. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

In Passage 1, the author is primarily concerned with doing which of the following?

Establishing a framework for additional discussion.

Pointing out features unique to a particular animal species.

Explaining evolutionary trends in snake color and markings.

Comparing the appearance of multiple species.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 45 of 52

45. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Which of the following inferences about snake coloring and markings is most supported by Passage 1?

Coloring can be classified by a finite number of reducible patterns.

Coloring can be as reliable an indicator of species as markings.

Two different species of snake will not have the same coloring and markings.

Coloring sometimes helps distinguish snake species.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 46 of 52

46. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Which of the following best describes the relationship of the statement about C. leopardinus in Passage 1 to the passage as a whole?

It presents a hypothesis that disproves an earlier statement.

It offers an alternate interpretation of a previous idea.

It distills the broader point of the passage into a specific example.

It answers an anticipated question that the reader might have based on prior information.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 47 of 52

47. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Unlike Passage 1, Passage 2 emphasizes that which of the following can be used to identify a snake species?

Color and tail characteristics.

Body markings and head shape.

Body length and markings.

Pupil shape and body width.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 48 of 52

48. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

How are the authors of the passages different in their beliefs regarding snake classification?

The first believes one method of classification is less valuable than another form, while the second believes all forms of classification are helpful.

The first does not believe that it is possible to identify two separate species without looking at the markings, while the second believes it is.

The first believes it is possible to determine whether a snake is poisonous based on its physical characteristics, while the second does not.

The first does not believe that variable markings can be scientifically explained, while the second posits that they can be if enough analysis is done on each specific snake.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 49 of 52

49. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

As used in paragraph 3 of Passage 2, the word “dorsal” most nearly means

anterior.

ventral.

back.

headmost.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 50 of 52

50. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

According to Passage 2, how could it be determined whether a snake is poisonous by examining it?

By examining the snake’s body markings.

By examining the snake’s eyes.

By examining the snake’s tail.

It cannot generally be determined.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 51 of 52

51. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Both the author of Passage 1 and the author of Passage 2 would agree with which of the following statements?

It is relatively easy to categorize a snake if you can get close enough to it.

Snakes can be easily categorized by the color of their skin and the markings on their bodies.

Snake categorization may be more challenging than it first appears.

Snake categorization should only be attempted by a scientific professional with experience working with reptiles.

Correct

Incorrect

Question 52 of 52

52. Question

Questions 42-52 are based on the following passage.

Passage 1 is adapted from “The Snakes of Europe” by G.A. Boulenger. Originally published in 1913. Passage 2 is adapted from a recent guidebook for “How to Identify a Snake Species.”

Passage 1

When discussing coloration, we have first to distinguish between the color and the markings. The former is very often highly variable among snakes of the same species, to say nothing of the changes which may take place with age or with the condition of the individual snakes, whether before or after exuviation; it is not unusual to find among specimens from the same locality a great range of variation, from greyish-white to brown, or red, or black, as, for instance, in our Common Viper. The latter afford more important characters, and often furnish valuable indications for the distinction of species; but even the disposition of the markings is subject to great individual variations, more likely to mislead than to help the inexperienced student in the discrimination of species.

It is therefore always advisable to resort in the first instance to structural characters for the purpose of specific identification, and to fall back on coloration only as a means of confirmation. If we were to be guided by color and markings alone, how could we believe that an adult four-lined Coluberquatuorlineatus is of the same species as the handsomely spotted Colubersauromates. Yet, if we compare the young of these two snakes we find them to be absolutely identical in their markings, and, in the absence of any structural differences, we are forced to conclude that they only represent two forms of the same species, of which the latter is the more primitive.

It is nevertheless a fact that, with a few exceptions, the markings, however variable they may be, are reducible to certain fundamental patterns to which the innumerable variations may be traced back, and their derivation followed and scientifically explained. Let us consider, for instance, another species of Coluber, highly variable in its markings: C. leopardinus, of which the typical form, so called from having been the first described and named, is not by any means to be regarded as the most primitive.

Passage 2

Identifying snakes has little to do with the myths surrounding poisonous and non-poisonous characteristics and has more to do with body type classification. There are very few tricks that can be used when determining the venom factor, one of which is pupil shape. All snakes with slit-shaped pupils are poisonous. Not all poisonous snakes have slit-shaped pupils. This one certainty is often difficult to ascertain as it requires you to get extremely close to the snake to make your determination. In reality, snake experts use a methodical system to categorize and identify a snake once it has been found.

The first characteristic assessed is body length. Snakes are categorized into three classes: small, medium, and large. Once length is determined, the width of the snake is also examined. If possible, actual dimensions should be gathered. A snake’s head shape can tell a lot about it, but does not necessarily mean anything in regards to venomous or non-venomous. Many vipers have triangular heads, but other snakes can resemble the same shape when they deliberately flatten their heads in aggression or anxiety. Knowing if the snake has a round, long, or oval head will help in identification but is not any proof of venom or lack thereof. Eye color, pupil shape, location on the face, and eye size should all be noted. These three identifiers: body length and width, head shape, and eye characteristics will narrow down the possibilities for species identification.

Color is usually very helpful in determining the type of snake you have located. Many snakes have distinctive patterns. Noting the patterns and the colors is very important. Sometimes the difference between a harmless snake and a deadly viper is one ring of coloration. Blotches usually refer to patterns with no symmetry. These markings are often rectangular with darker edges. If a diamond pattern is noted, color and color pattern should be noted as well. Are there speckles (flecks of color) or spots (large or small defined, solid color circles)? Ring patterns appear like bands around the width of the snake. Stripes are patterns lengthwise down the body. Some snakes are one color on the dorsal side and a different color on the belly. Distinctive markings on the head and neck may be present. Lastly, some snakes have no markings at all and are one, solid color.

Tail characteristics are another guide to identifying a snake. The tail is defined as the length of body stretching beyond the snake’s anus. Tails can end with a rattle. They can be pointed or rounded. Some have specific patterns. Experts are able to use the number and arrangement of scales on a snake to further assist in the identification process. Some snakes are almost identical, and it is these snakes that need the assistance of habitat evaluation. If a snake cannot be identified by appearance alone, the habits of the species will come into play. Some snakes like rocky soil. Some snakes like sand. Some snakes eat only certain animals, or will only be found out at certain times of day. Not all snakes are found everywhere. Having a good, basic knowledge of the local area will help tremendously.

The important thing to remember is that most “quick” identification advice is based loosely on truth. You cannot always be certain of a snake’s venom potential just by the shape of its head, the color of its body, the habitat it lives in, or the color and shape of its eyes.

Which of the following most likely describes “habitat evaluation” as mentioned in Passage 2?

Recording the climate, windfall, temperature, and humidity of the area in which a snake has been found.

Recording the length, width, and weight of each individual snake found in the habitat.

Recording the types of soil found in the area in which snakes have been seen.

Recording the regular behavior of the snake in relation to its environment.